19 September 2012


I don’t know if it is early or late (though after 23 years in Wisconsin I should know these things), but today was the first time I entered a supermarket and found bags of newly picked apples. When we first moved here we visited Connell’s Orchard every early Fall and picked bushels of apples which we then made into pies, apple crisps and applesauce.
I love to make applesauce, and every time I do so I remember my mother standing over the food grinder preparing her own homemade applesauce. I think the recipe came from her mother, and who knows from where Grandma Rose got it. My mother sent me the food grinder I now use for preparing applesauce. Applesauce became a family affair.
I fill a very large soup kettle with cut and quartered apples and put just a little water in to protect the bottom of the pot. And on a good day I let the apples simmer for an hour or so until they are nice and mushy. Taking the top off the pot releases a magnificent spray of apple scent and has become for me the scent of Fall. And then I slowly ladle the nectar into the food grinder and begin to grind. I count the turns: so many to the right and so many to the left, until all that is left are the bare skins and cooked seeds. When the grinder is empty and the sauce bowl is full, I stir a teaspoon of fresh cinnamon into the sauce and stir it until it is quite melted. I always freeze a portion and put the remainder in the refrigerator for present consumption. Of course, we have always eaten both portions by Hanukah, and so before the holiday I run through the routine again, but this time the apple sauce adorns the latkes and is consumed all at once. We have almost never purchased jars of prepared applesauce. Son and Grandma prefer our own effort. 


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